Chapter Text
Hekarro
After arranging some pillows to his satisfaction, Hekarro had pulled himself across the bed to lean against the wall, and now Kotallo’s head rested on his lap so beautifully smudged with Hekarro’s royal blue, arm resting across his chest, and Aloy was curled against Hekarro’s side, her hands tracing Kotallo’s arm over the lines of the ink that wasn’t hers and looking pleased and wistful. Hekarro gazed at the ink that was, reading the strange symbols again from upside-down.
The symbols told of a story that started in the high mountains, with the time symbol for deep night. An elite group brought together for a special mission. Scouting to explore completely new terrain. Subterfuge, an ambush, pulled off. Surviving the oblivion of certain annihilation. And then, the time indicator for sunrise. All the symbols were in black, but each one was highlighted with an unfamiliar warm light green with the symbol for ‘greatest victory,’ either as background to or encircling the main symbols.
Instead of the standard soot black, jungle copper-green or vermillion red lines to frame the episode, there were unfamiliar colors and shapes.
At his right hip, there was a border made of a diffuse light blue chevron that was partially a background to the symbol about mountain holds, which made it look like the war paint that could frame an eye.
At his left hip, the design was bounded by rounded, lacy, diluted jungle green accented with white, similar to the ornaments he saw hanging from the edges of the Quen delegation’s clothes.
Above, there were the curvilinear white fingerprints that the Utaru favored. When he consulted his memory from Veteran exchanges, he recognized it as two patterns: one side was of the grave-singers who planted their dead into the ground and sang the spirit’s way home, and the other side was of the farmers who sought blessings for new plantings. Each one had been delineated in a thin black line, a guide so that the white could be emphasized with paint.
They weren’t linked in the center of the design but rather emerged from between the symbols for the ambush and annihilation. As he looked closer, he also noticed a light blue symbol beneath the Utaru dots that indicated bitter defeat, in contrast to but sharing space with the larger green symbol highlighting victory, hinting at a cycle of more than one event.
On the top and beneath the Utaru dots, in the true center of the piece was an outline of the symbol for a star, uncolored and unfilled.
And at the base above his public bone, a diffuse straight charcoal black line, and half a disc in the center with the simple bolt- and rivet-like geometric patterns the Oseram favored.
Truly, this experience had changed his Marshal, made him a part of the greater world. And yet he had placed this record of his experiences where only a select few could ever see it. Interesting.
Hekarro felt himself drowsy, his half-arousal from holding and witnessing these delightful people waning. He could find it later, easily.
Kotallo was also drifting in and out of wakefulness.
And yet, Aloy still fairly hummed with curiosity and attention and thoughts. She curled up, at rest, but had no repose.
Kotallo turned his head towards her, mouth probably shaping a similar observation, when Aloy’s head jerked up and to the side, her hand coming to the bright triangle at her temple. She fairly leapt off of the bed, to stand and listen. Brief phrases in response to someone far away.
Kotallo rolled to his side to watch her, pulling his knees forward.
She spun back to them, grinning.
“Chief Hekarro, could I ask you for some quiet quarters or a place to put a bedroll? My sister contacted me, wanting to come see the final day of the Kulran! She almost never leaves the Base, and I want to make sure she has a good time!”
He smiled, and nodded.
She added, “Oh, and, I might have another escort for her, but would it be possible for Kotallo to be available to get her safely home? I might need to leave mid-morning.”
“To fetch Beta?” Kotallo clarified.
“Oh, no, I’ll bring her now. I have something I was headed towards when I got your message, and I’ve already delayed a bit long. If I stay and have any more ‘fun,’ I might bring down the Arena!”
Kotallo answered her earlier question. “I can make myself available. I will see her safely back.”
She smiled at him, warm and caring.
“But,” the young man continued. “Do you need to leave now? Won’t you stay with us and rest?”
She knelt back onto the bed just far enough to lean over and kiss him tenderly.
“You rest for me. I fixed the harness, so I can bring her by Sunwing. I might be back before you wake, but, uh, you know me and time estimates!”
She had already pulled away and was pulling on her armor, all of the pieces this time, gloves and leggings and helm, preparing for travel through the clouds.
Hekarro just watched her, bemused at this force of nature he had invited into his private chambers. She had spun up his life, blown away his grief, and dropped his long-awaited love into his arms.
Goddess, indeed.
Finally, she had pulled all her weapons and supply belts back into place, and the one-woman army, or perhaps air force, again leaned over the bed to give a lingering kiss to Kotallo and a peck on the forehead to him.
“This was fun!” she said, and quietly left the room into the dark night.
He felt Kotallo’s posture shift, relaxation or resignation. He wasn’t sure.
He inquired, partially sarcastically and partially sincerely, “Does she ever sleep?”
Kotallo answered, “You know, I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t think she does.”
“Hmm….” He pondered the implications of this with reference to the disruptions to statecraft. “No wonder she gets so much done and covers so much ground!”
His best Marshal’s shoulders shook with laughter.
Speaking of best Marshal. “I have a question for a trusted advisor.”
Kotallo rolled onto his back to look up at him, curious, but smiling at the role.
“It’s especially important that you advise me, since it’s about a message and you’d be writing it,” Hekarro continued, all seriousness.
“I will do my best to advise you well.”
Hekarro took a breath, and then looked off into the middle distance of the room.
“I need a confirming opinion that it would not be diplomatically wise to send a letter to the Sun-King of the Carja that said, ‘ha ha, Avad, suck on these. Aloy likes me more than you’ followed by the written equivalent of grabbing my balls.” He looked down into Kotallo’s face, all curiosity.
His Marshal sat up, looking a bit shocked. And then burst into laughter.
“No, I won’t send that!” His voice shook as he laughed. “Having worked hard to bring the last Embassy together, I can assuredly say that a message like that would set us back a bit!”
Hekarro laughed too. “Can you imagine his face?”
Kotallo gasped. “It might be war! Or another threesome! A foursome? Could I watch, at least, in an advisory role? I’m sure he’d bring some advisors!”
They both doubled over, laughing at the thought of the rarified Carja reading something like that amidst all his gold and glitter and lofty entourage, and how he would respond, and then once the laughter eased, they relaxed against each other for a few breaths.
But Aloy’s energy had gotten into Kotallo. He sat back up, and looked into Hekarro’s eyes, hesitant. “I have a more serious request for advice.”
“Yes?” Hekarro prompted gently.
“Aloy called me a poet in front of all of leadership, but she doesn’t actually like poetry much, and so I’m not sure if her assessment is accurate. I was wondering if I could share one I’m working on with you, and you can tell me if there’s anything of worth there.”
Hekarro was thrilled. He grinned broadly, and gestured for his creative Marshal to perform.
Kotallo made his way off the bed and stood up straight, rolling his shoulders and taking a breath. And then seemed to notice air flow where there usually wasn’t.
“Hmm, Chief Hekarro, the last time I recited some of these, I was also not wearing clothes. Should I, perhaps, put some on?”
Hekarro shook his head gently with a lascivious grin. “I will not let you. Go on, and recite for me, as you are. I can only imagine your words are as enchanting as your form is.”
Kotallo’s blush reached his ears. But, he stood straight and tall again, comfortable in this space. As he should be, for the days to come.
He shook his head slightly, settled his shoulders, took another deep breath, and launched into his stanzas and evocative gestures, his footsteps and shifts in weight adding emphasis to the rhythm of his words.
On a night many years ago,
When the Vision who holds the world in her mind
GAIA, knew her time had come
And the world would fall into darkness,
She sent her spark into the cradle of the earth
And with the blade of her will
Made a cutting from the vine of the fruit all life.
And, with her purest hope taking root,
Broke into pieces, her spirit in fragments,
Fleeing across the land.
The winds and the waters, the animals and Machines
The plants in the wilds, the crops in the fields,
And the hearts of humans, were all cast into shadow
Beginning to come apart like the Vision that had held them.
Deep in the earth, this new life grew,
And when it came time to rise like the sun,
Machines carried her in their arms
And gave her unto the humans,
Who knew not what they beheld.
Cast her out! they cried afraid,
Not knowing this was the hope for their future.
But a wise one saw the spark within her,
and carried her to an exile:
A man without hope,
And gave him this hope
To raise up, strong and unyielding,
To teach her the ways of the world.
And so the hope given to humans
Grew into a mighty hunter,
Proven to be the strongest and swiftest of the land.
But her eyes and her heart and her mind
Returned to the metal ruins that had birthed her.
She delved deep into their secrets
And brought forth her third eye,
With it, the unseen is laid plain before her,
Past and present sing their stories.
No lock can withstand her.
She opens the vaults of the earth
With a word and a touch.She is of the vine of the fruit of all life.
Her blood flows with the bitter red of healing,
taking the blows for the injured or weakened.
The sweat of her exertion glows golden,
lending others the strength to go on.
Her green gaze washes away all that overwhelms,
Smooths away impediments, a soothing balm.
But corruption and cruelty wrest her guardian from her
Showing her the breadth of the wrongness of the world.
The world without GAIA, who had held it in Her mind,
Is full of blight and greed, rebellion and betrayal.
This bright hope can remain hidden no longer.
She moves into the world,
A shadow in the grasses, a wanderer,
To find GAIA’s spirits, and hold the world anew.She was carried from the metal ruins
into the sunlight in the arms of Machines
And she uses the tools they give her.
No twisted tangle
Of human, flower or Machine can withstand her.
She tears apart what blocks her path
And weaves new life from it.
She builds bridges from barren trees with a nudge of her shoulder,
Pulls down roofs with a flick of her wrist,
Breaks walls asunder with a thrust of her blade.
Machines fall before her, laying themselves open for her needs
Or defend and carry her, tamed by a touch of her spear
Her raised hands are a shield for those crushed by selfishness or madness.
Her outflung rope holds back collapse until all can reach safety.
Weidler of her hunter’s bow, and of heavy weapons,
Her cannon claimed from a great quarry
Felled by her swift arrows,
Her bolt aimed true into the secrets of the past,
She breaks the most impenetrable bulwark
Into pieces with a single volley.
She leaps over, fearless in her purpose,
Clearing the path to unity.No boundary can contain her.
No leader can subdue her.
Nor limits of the seas or skies, restrain her.
She dives deep into the darkness, dancing in the currents
She alights into the clouds, on the wings of sunlight
And floats to the ground, cupping the wind in her palms
She strides across the wilds:
There is no place that does not remember her footfalls,
From glittering ice scoured from the mountain peaks,
To desert haze, shifting sands and swirling dust,
To jungle or forest, green light filtering through leaves.
Nor does the earth contain her,
as she reaches her hand into the heavens
And draws down her sister from the stars
Into her warm embrace.Fearsome warrior, spearmaiden, huntress,
Anointed, Savior and Champion.
No power does she seek, nor praise, nor tribute.
She brushes aside offers of surrender like spider silk clinging,
Unswayed by suspicion, politics or greed.
And when the people cry out to her for aid,
Or weep their woeful needs behind their hands,
She comes smiling to their side:
This bright hope, bearing mercy, bringing miracles,
Who binds the world together.
She says
Not Anointed, not Savior, not Champion.
Just ‘Aloy,’ and how can I help?
Aloy is the flame in the darkness, the green of new life.
She is of everything she fights to save in the world.
Her coming is the dawn of a new day.
Kotallo took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded.
Hekarro sat, stunned to silence while his mind whirled.
After a moment, Kotallo shifted his stance.
“Umm….”
“Yes?” Hekarro finally noticed his discomfort, and pulled his mind back to reality.
“I’m not sure which is worse: her poetry-faces, or your lack of any expression at all.”
Hekarro’s awe dissolved into mirth and he laughed from deep in his belly. So ‘poetry-faces’ were a major stumbling block to her nefarious plot! But Kotallo was also worried about his laughter, clearly vulnerable about this side of himself.
“My apologies. I was merely trying to figure out which of the next festivals would be suitable to unveil it as new canonical history, considering you’d need time to teach it to the Chaplains for recital among the settlements, and perhaps work with them on a few points of phrasing to make sure it is easy to chant. We did tell her that her deeds would be recorded alongside The Ten.”
Kotallo made some amusing faces as well.
“ …? …!! …??? Canonical history??!” he finally blurted out.
“Well, our Champion, ‘ the flame in the darkness, the green of new life ,’ did say you’re a poet who is probably re-writing the Ballad of the Final Battle of the Ten. Who am I to gainsay her judgment?”
“ …Huh….”
“Also…”
“Mmm?”
“I saw what you did there in the last line. Very clever. She does look like a sunrise when she comes apart.”
“Finally, someone believes me. … Hmm, can I ask a different question?” Kotallo, who looked mightily relieved, sat on the edge of the bed again. Hekarro reached out to trace along the ink that was hers, low across his belly, and Kotallo shivered. “Uhnn, perhaps related to that ,” he added, indicating Hekarro’s touch, caressing the wrist that caressed him.
“Of course.”
“To quote my Goddess, how many people do I have to fuck until I am skilled as you?”
Hekarro laughed, deeply.
“That is between me and my past lovers. You will receive the same discretion, by the way, the mark on your cheek notwithstanding”
“Mmmm. I see.”
“But, I am overjoyed to have the opportunity to teach you everything I know,” and reached up to pull his best Marshal’s lips to his.